


An Ordinary Man

by septemberprudence



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Father/Son Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 21:47:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4495857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/septemberprudence/pseuds/septemberprudence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jos would do anything to make sure Max succeeds, but what would Max do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Ordinary Man

Max was thirteen the first time his father talked about it. "No one will touch you," he assured Max. "I'll be there the whole time, I promise, and I'll make sure no one touches you."

"I don't know…" Max said. He stared down at the ground. More than anything else, he didn't want to disappoint his father but the thought of it made him feel sick; fear like a cold, dark stone inside him.

"You don't have to," his father said. "It would help your career immensely, get us all the sponsors we need, but if you don't want to…" His voice trailed off before he continued. "I'd always thought you'd do everything you could to help us succeed," he said, that sour, wheedling tone in his voice, the one that always made Max want to run away and hide somewhere. "But it's your choice. I'm not going to force you." 

Nothing more was said, and Max assumed his father had decided against it, but when he was fourteen, he was taken to a hotel room.

There were men there, five or six of them, all old, all drinking scotch with ice. The only one Max recognized was Marko, but he was trying not to look at their faces. He glanced back over his shoulder at his father, who was standing in the corner of the room by the door, watching, waiting.

"Hello, pretty," one of the men said, but Max didn't reply. He undressed himself as his father had instructed him he should, and then laid down on the bed, closing his eyes. He could hear the men all breathing, circling around as they watched him. He'd been worried he wouldn't be able to get hard, but it wasn't so difficult to pretend he was somewhere else.

And it wasn't that bad, in the end. He bent his knees up, spread his legs. His father had told him to take as long as he could, so he sucked on his fingers, wetting them before running them over his nipples. The men all gasped in approval, and Max smiled to himself, finding it strangely enjoyable to be the center of attention.

He pulled on his cock, sliding his hand up and down, faster and faster, arching his hips up showily as he finished. Come landed on his stomach and chest, and he ran one finger through it, licking it off with a flourish.

One of the men chuckled, a low guttural sound. "The boy's a natural," he said, admiringly. 

When they were back in the car, Max's father gave him a long, studied look, eyes narrowed in what could almost be taken as suspicion. "You were good," he said, carefully. "That was good."

"Thanks," Max replied, shrugging, feeling warm inside.

.

He was fifteen before they were allowed to touch him, and at first they'd just sit beside him on the bed, jerk him off, but Max was soon sitting naked in their laps, letting them kiss him. Their lips were always slack and wet, their tongues tasting of alcohol as they slid slippery into Max's willing mouth.

They were predictable, with easily satisfied tastes. Max pretended to enjoy himself, giggling coquettishly as he squirmed in their embraces, and they'd laugh fondly, say, "Such a beautiful boy," before they pushed him down on to his knees.

Sometimes he'd glance over at his father, who was still always there, leaning up against the wall next to the door, never looking away. Supervising, Max mused bitterly, never giving it a second thought until one night when they were in a place with brighter lighting than normal, and even from across the room there was no missing the erection obvious inside his father's pants.

For a moment Max didn't know what to think, staring, frozen. He looked up at his father's face, their gazes meeting, and Jos didn't react.

"Come on, sweetheart," someone said, rubbing their cock over his lips. Max opened his mouth obediently, then closed his eyes.

.

On his sixteenth birthday, they had a party. There were more men than usual, and they were drinking champagne instead of scotch, letting Max sip from their glasses when he pleaded with them, fluttering his eyelashes like a girl. "You're impossible to resist, my darling," they told him. "Happy birthday, angel," they said, and Max only smiled.

He sucked some of them off while the others watched, and then they laid him out on the bed. "Show time," someone said. Max knew he should be nervous, that anyone else would be nervous, but he only felt perfectly, serenely calm.

He focused on relaxing himself as someone pushed inside him, the pain of it soon subsiding into something like pleasure. Whatever that was, Max thought, as the man moaned. "Oh god," he gritted out. "Oh _fuck_ , you're so tight."

A few of them took turns with him, not so many that it was too much, but he began to tire by the end. 

The last one spread out on his back, pulling Max over to straddle him, ride his cock. He touched himself as he moved his hips mechanically, come spattering over the man's chest when he was done.

"Good boy," someone said, so softly Max barely heard it.

.

Max and his father rode back downstairs in the elevator, silent, both staring straight ahead. The car was parked in the basement, and once they were both inside, doors firmly locked, Max leaned over and unzipped his father's jeans.

Jos didn't try to stop him, shifting the seat back so they'd have more room, hand tight in Max's hair as his head bobbed up and down.

After, Max sat up, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand.

His father didn't speak for a minute, then only said, "2015."

"What?" Max asked, not understanding.

"If everything goes according to plan, you'll be at Toro Rosso in 2015,"

"Oh," replied Max, barely able to comprehend what that meant. He'd be seventeen at the start of the season, so if he was remembering his stats correctly, he'd be the youngest driver ever.

And the best ever, he was certain. Nothing would be able to stop him, not now.

"It means…" His father inhaled deeply. "There'll be more of… this," he said, gesturing vaguely. More _fucking_ , he was implying, 

Max shrugged. "I don't mind," he said.

"No," said Jos. "No, I suppose you're used to it."

Max looked at him, and for the first time, his father seemed _old_ to him. He was just a man, just like everyone else, no one special. "Sure," said Max, "I'm used to it."


End file.
